


Only Sixteen

by Decaykid



Series: Butterfly Baby [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, Gen, Language, Teen Angst, Teen Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 02:23:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6637174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decaykid/pseuds/Decaykid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She was too young to fall in love<br/>and I was too young to know</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Sam Cooke - Only Sixteen.

"Now that everyone is done with their quiz, open your text book to page one twenty-six."

The future Lone Wanderer lets out a resigned sigh as she feels a persistant tap on her shoulder.

"What, Butch?" She asks as she scribbles down the information on the board.

"Can I borrow your notes?"

"Why don't you just write down your own?"

"Maybe I could if your big head wasn't blocking the board."

"Maybe you could see the board if you weren't slouched in your chair like it's a couch."

The chair groans beneath him as his weight is shifted forward and the sharp scent of pomade greets her.

"What was that?" He whispers, voice low, mouth just inches from her ear.

Her mouth twists into a frown but she decides to ignore him, and it works- at least until she feels the warm stream of his breath being blown into the back of her neck. She breaks the lead of her pencil in agitation, which only adds to her frustration. She stares at Mr. Brotch's back as if she can make him turn around with sheer willpower, but he continues on his lecture, speaking into the board. How he doesn't catch on to Butch and his antics, she doesn't know. Feeling Butch's breath on her neck again, she pulls her shoulder up, as if to shrug off the tingling sensation crawling along her neck. Behind her, Butch chuckles.

"You know, if you'd pull your collar up, it wouldn't bother you."

A strange thing for him to say, she thinks. Doesn't he want to bother her?

"And what? Look like one of you 'Tunnel Snakes'?"

"What's wrong with bein' a Snake?"

"Nothing. Other than you're annoying."

"Is there something you two would like to share with the class?"

Oh _now_ he's paying attention to his students, she thinks, as she stares intently at her desk while her face grows warm.

"No sir."

Mr. Brotch looks between the both of them before resuming.

"Way to go, Goody Two-Shoes. You really told 'em off."

"Shut up Butch, I'm trying to listen."

"Whatever you say, girlie."

She hesitates before drawing her hands up and popping the collar of her Vault suit, for a safety measure. She doesn't catch the way Butch bites his lip as he grins, but she hears when the chair groans as he sits back , content to leave her alone for the rest of class.

~*~

"I'm sorry, he's not being too much of a bother, is he?"

"No, not really." She says, because really, in the grand scheme of things, having to stay after class to talk the teacher isn't as bad as being tripped in the halls or being called nasty names.

"I know he can be a handful, but in all honestly, I'd rather him mildly annoying a student, then cause trouble and interrupt the entire class, as he has a tendency to do."

"Yes, I understand."

"You'll let me know if he gets to be too much?"

"Yes Mr. Brotch."

~*~

Tucked away in his work space and too enthralled in scattered papers strewn about his desk and chart in hand, Doctor James isn't aware that someone's come into the clinic until Butch begins to speak.

"Yo, what's a guy gotta do to get medical attention 'round here? Scream?"

The older man startles at the voice, looks at Butch from over the top of the chart and blinks owlishly. A very annoyed looking Butch stands before him, hand cupped to his face as blood leaks through his fingers.

"Oh my!" James says, placing the chart aside. He stands from his chair with a sigh and he guides Butch to the closest examination table, though Butch makes no movement to sit on it, rather he leans against it.

"Alright, let's take a look at it."

"Ain't too bad." Butch says as he moves his hand from his nose to hover below his chin to catch the dripping blood.

"You're right, doesn't look broken. Definitely has some bruising."

James fetches a towel and hands it to Butch.

"I'll get you some ice. That'll help with the swelling."

When James returns, Butch is laid out on the examination table, one leg pulled up, a hand under his head and the bloodied towel on the bedside stand.

"Just put this on for fifteen minutes, then you can go."

"Sure thing, Doc."

"So what happened?"

"Got into a scrap with one of the boys."

"Oh yeah? What'd he do?"

"Popped off when I wasn't in the mood."

"I see."

"So, where's your daughter?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your daughter, she ain't here. I was standin' in the waitin' room for five minutes waitin' for someone to come out. Dripped blood on the floor."

"She's not here for the evening."

"Oh yeah? Where is she?"

James looks up from his scribbling in Butch's chart.

"She's with Amata."

Butch attempts a snort, but it comes out more like a gagging sound.

"Figures."

James returns his attention to the chart, notes that the last seven entries have been over the course of the past three weeks.

"Say, Butch, why exactly were you looking for my daughter?"

"Just... needed some notes."

"Some notes, eh?" James asks, looking through the entries. "Notes from the class you missed on Thursday, from the headache you came and saw me for? I have to say, I've been seeing you quite a lot here lately."

"You know what Doc, I'll just get them from her tomorrow. Can I get up now?"

James glances at the clock then motions for Butch to remove the makeshift ice pack.

After looking at Butch's nose, he nods.

"Ah, yes. It's looking much better. Can hardly tell you got hit."

"Finally." Butch says, half tossing, half placing the partially melted ice bag with the bloodied towel before rolling off the bed and adjusting his hair and jacket.

"Oh Butch?" James calls before he exits into the hallway, "I'll tell her you stopped by."

"Whatever." Butch says before the door closes behind him.

~*~

The future Lone Wanderer huffs into her book as she reads the same line for the fifth time in a row. Unable to get her mind into the book, she closes it and places it on her desk with her finger slotted between the pages to keep her place. 

"Do you mind?" She asks as she turns around, glaring at Butch.

"Mind what?"

She rolls her eyes.

"Your insistent kicking of my chair."

"I ain't kickin' your chair."

"Just... stop it, please?"

"Stop what?"

"The kicking."

"What kickin'?"

She sighs, turns back around, and all but buries her nose into her book. She rereads the same damn sentence a few more times, distracted and waiting for the next kick, but it doesn't come. She finds herself relaxing, gets halfway down the page when she feels the bump against her chair. She decides to ignore it, she's not going to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. A few kicks later and he's changing tactics.

"Hey, I think I saw who was kickin' your chair."

She draws her brows together, brings the book closer to her face, hoping to look much too invested in her book.

"Fine. Ignore me. I was just tryin' to help, since you're accusin' me of doin' things I ain't doin'."

She finally gets her silence- save for the warm chit chat of the classroom while people make up work or share gossip. She doesn't mind the white noise, finds it easy to block out as she looses herself in the world that's weaved by printed words on the pages, immersed in the details and the characters as they go about their adventures. She's a few pages from the end of the chapter when Butch speaks again.

"You know you look like your pops when you're concentratin' like that."

She finds herself turning around to look at him before she can think better of it.

"What do you mean?"

"You're starin' at it, like it might run away otherwise. And you do that thing with your eyebrows when you think, and your mouth turns like his."

She stares at him, dumbfound. She never realized he paid any attention to her, let alone memorize details and liken her to her father.

"Whatchya readin'?" He asks as he reaches over the desk and her shoulder to grab her book. Her mind is still trying to process Butch saying she does something with her eyebrows when she thinks, then suddenly he's there and close and she feels the warmth coming off him and smells the pomade and leather and her finger slips from the pages of her book as he takes it and he sits back down and the warm and smell are gone and she's just realizing she's lost her place.

"Hey!" She cries out, reaching for the book as extends his arm up and backwards, away from her reach. Suddenly the class goes quiet and everyone is looking at them. She feels her face turn bright red and she quickly turns back around in her desk. There's a moment of awkward silence before everyone resumes their talking and mulling about. Mr. Brotch keeps his eye on the pair only for a moment before continuing to grade papers.

"Hey," Butch says, tapping her on the shoulder with the spine of the book, "what's this about?"

"I'd know, if you'd give me a moment's peace to read it." She grumbles. With her back to him, she doesn't catch his smile. He looks at the cover, turns it around and skims the back before leafing through it.

"Looks boring."

"You think every book is boring."

"Not true," he says, thumbing the pages, "I happen to enjoy the science book."

She turns around, deciding there's just no getting out of conversing with Butch this period.

"You? Like the _science_ book? As in our _science text books_?"

"Oh yeah, great stuff. 'Specially biology part; chapter nine point four."

Her eyes widen and she can feel her cheeks and ears growing hot.

Chapter Nine in the biology portion of their textbooks is about the different systems of the human body, part four of this chapter covers the reproduction systems of the human bodies, and everyone knows on page three eighty-two there's a diagram of said systems.

She really should've seen that one coming.

Butch laughs at her facial expression, and she begrudges him, hates that he's laughing at her, hates herself that she kinda likes the way it sounds.

"Geez Nosebleed, don't look so shocked."

She says nothing, and he contains his amusement to a grin on his face, decides to change the topic.

He puts the book on his desk, places his hand flat on the cover.

"What's the book about?"

She stares intently at the book, then lets at a defeated sigh.

"It's about a girl." She says at least, meeting his gaze.

"Really?"

"Mm-hmm."

"What about the girl?"

"What do you mean?"

"Characters do stuff in books right? What's she do?"

"Oh. Well, she doesn't do much until this boy comes around."

"Oh yeah? What's the boy like?"

"Well, he's rude and loud and arrogant. Thinks he can get away with things."

"Like what?"

"Like kicking chairs and stealing books from people who are reading them."

He smirks.

"This girl... what's she think of the boy?"

"What makes you think she thinks anything of the boy?"

"She's gotta, right? You said she don't do anythin' until the boy comes around."

"Oh. Right. I guess... she doesn't know what to think of the boy. She just wants her book back."

"Why doesn't she know what to think of him?"

"I don't know... I guess she doesn't know him that well."

"Sounds like a borin' book."

"It's of an acquired taste."

Though he isn't sure what she just said, he knows it's an insult.

"Whatever, man."

She sighs for what he thinks feels like the millionth time.

"Since you're not interested in the 'boring book', can I have it back? Because I happen to find it very interesting."

"Yeah, sure." He says nonchalantly, and slides it across the table towards her. She waits for him to remove his hand. When he doesn't, she's hesitant to reach out for it, expects him to pull it away from her, telling her she's too slow. He does no such thing. He lets her take the book and she ignores the brush of fingers, decides Butch is just controlling, that he only wanted her to have the book back if it were by his terms, and his terms only. He couldn't have her snatching the book from him, she needed to know she only has it back because he let her have it back. Whatever the reason, she's happy to feel its pages beneath her finger tips once again.

"Butch," Mr. Brotch says from his spot behind his desk, "I'd highly recommend you take advantage of this make up day. Your last test scores weren't so good."

"Yeah Butch." Wally jeers, and with Butch's attention elsewhere, the future Lone Wanderer easily finds where she left off and continues reading.

~*~

Wally carefully runs a comb through his hair. Butch watches him, waits for the perfect moment to bump his elbow and ruin the smooth curve.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Wally hisses, agitated as he runs the comb through his hair again.

"I dunno man, it looked better than what you got goin' on now." Butch says, smirking.

"Cute." Wally replies, pocketing the comb. "What's takin' Paul so long? I should've been drunk as of five minutes ago."

"You know his folks are strict, he can't just walk off. He can't raise any suspicion or we're all busted."

"I thought the whole point of the gang was to make people suspicious. Out tough the tough guys."

"Yeah, yeah. Just be patient."

Wally eyes Butch.

"Could say the same to you. What are you all fidgety for?"

"I ain't fidgety." He argues, as he drops his hand from the zipper he'd be playing with and shoves it into his pocket. He mimics Wally's pose and leans against the wall.

"So, I uh, saw your sis on Saturday."

"Yeah, and?"

"She's really startin' to fill out her Vault suit, if you know what I mean."

Wally punches Butch's arm.

"Don't talk about my sister like that!"

"Just sayin', you totally got all the ugly traits in the gene pool man."

"Dammit Butch, shut up!" Wally smacks his arm again. "The hell's gotten into you? And where's Paul?"

Butch rubs at the spot on his arm, dissatisfied. They sit in silence as they watch the clock in the hall.

"Forget this, Wally. I don't think I'm gonna get drunk with you and Paul."

"What? Why not? Pussing out?"

"Nah, I don't wanna be late for the date I made with your mother."

Wally glares at Butch.

"Would you stop buggin' be? My keepers said if I get another bad mark, I'm gonna have to get a tutor, and like hell am I gonna spend my evenings with Brotch."

"I dunno, with all the trouble you're always gettin' into, I kinda think you might have a thing for Teach."

Before Wally can react, footfalls echo down the hall. Butch peers around the corner and sees it isn't Paul, but the Doc's kid. Exasperated, he goes back to Wally.

"Look man, hit me."

Wally stares at Butch.

"What?"

"C'mon man, just hit me. I know you want to, I've been shit talkin' you all afternoon."

"What the hell, man? What is this? Some kind of kink thing?"

"Just do it!"

The footsteps come closer and both boys look up to see her approaching, nose in a book as she goes along her way. Wally glances from her to Butch, sees the way his expression has gone soft as he looks at her, and quickly puts two and two together. Without warning, he grabs for Butch and his hand fists the fabric of his Vault suit, dragging Butch towards him. Butch turns in enough time to see Wally's fist flying towards him.

Having become aware of another's presence in the hall, she looks up just in time to see Wally sock Butch in the face.

"The fuck is wrong with you man?" Butch exclaims and a burst of color explodes behind his eyelids.

"Wally!" She reprimands, quickly running over to them. "What did you do that for?"

"Bastard had it coming." Wally says with a sneer as he tenderly rubs his knuckles.

"He's gotta thick skull, looked worse than it felt."

She glares at him, mouth agape like a fish as words fail her. Wally Mack is cruel, yes, but what kind of idiot befriends him in the first place?

No longer needed and wanting to look into why Paul hasn't shown up with key card to break into the rations room to steal alcohol, Wally leaves the pair in the hall.  
The future Lone Wanderer walks over to Butch, wanting to help but unsure how to approach.

"Are you okay?"

"Fucking peachy." He replies through clenched teeth.

"Here, let me see." She says, pushing his hand away from his face. She moves closer, leans in to get a good look at the bruising skin and he think he's become addicted to her perfume.

"Looks like he just barely missed your eye. Still, you might want to get it checked. Looks painful."

"No argument there."

Together they make their way to the clinic.

~*~

James greets them with lips pressed into a thin line and a raised eyebrow, though he ducks out, asking his daughter to tend to Butch while he has a meeting with the Overseer about supplies.

"You sure you know what you're doin'?" Butch teases as he sits on the examination table and it earns him an eyeroll.

"It's not like it's surgery or anything." She says as she pulls on latex gloves.

"Those really necessary?" He asks and she pouts.

"Not exactly, just let me have my fun."

"This is fun for you?"

"Yeah. I've been watching my Dad doctor people up since I was a child. I like when he lets me help."

"Is this, like, what you wanna do?"

"Yeah." She says, gently probing the bruised area.

"What if the G.O.A.T. test assigns you to somethin' different?" He asks, unflinching even as she jabs at the cut.

"I don't know. Do that job then, I guess."

Finished with her examination, she removes her hand.

"He hit you pretty hard, but I don't think anything's broken. You're lucky, had he hit you any higher, he would've given you a black eye."

"Yeah," he snorts, " real lucky."

His gaze is on her as she dampens some gauze with alcohol, but she's too busy paying attention to the task at hand to really notice.

"Lemme guess Doc, this is gonna sting a little?"

She nods, dabs at the cut and the only sign of discomfort he shows is the slight furrowing of his eyebrows. She's surprised he's being cooperative, though she really isn't sure what she expected of him. Maybe for him to be as difficult and fitful as he acts in class or rude and disrespectful like he is in the halls. Maybe it's different, because he came in here of his own accord, seeking treatment. Whatever the reason, she's grateful and surprised to find that this experience has been enjoyable. A feat she never imagined could be plausible with Butch in the mix.

She grabs some ointment from the cupboard and squeezes a bit out on her finger. This time she's mindful of her touch as she smudges it across the cut. This close to Butch, she realizes for the first time that he has freckles splattered across his face- how has she never noticed before? The thought is strange to her, it makes him seem human, instead of some imposing figure made up of fear and anger.

She removes her gloves and throws them into the bio hazard bin.

"I'm going to get you some ice, be back in a bit."

She's surprised to see he didn't run off in her brief absence. He's still sitting on the examination table, leaned back with his arms behind him, as if there's no where else in the Vault he'd rather be.

"Here you go," she says as she passes the bag of ice to him and their fingers brush for the second time that day, "you're free to go now."

He smirks.

"Your pops always makes me wait for the swellin' to go down."

"I didn't realize I was being graded."

"Consider it help for the exam."

She uses the fifteen minutes pretending to look for Butch's chart. Though confidentiality keeps her from helping her father or Jonas from filling them out, Butch doesn't know that, and she needs an excuse to busy herself. Butch has been pleasant, yes, but she's waiting for the other shoe to drop. It's not like he's unable to act civil towards others, in fact he's been known to be quite friendly to those he wants something from, and she can't help but wonder if such is the case now. When the time is up, she returns to him and checks the abrasion one last time.

"You're all cleared to go."

"Thanks, Doc. You know, you're pretty good at this stuff."

"Let me guess, you'll stick gum in my hair tomorrow if I tell anyone you got your ass kicked by Wally Mack?"

He laughs and says, "no, but maybe you can help me with notes from class?"

She's taken aback but agrees, though reluctantly. As she watches him leave the office and disappear down the hall, she hopes he doesn't use this as an excuse to really bother her in class.

~*~

Butch is rather compliant in class, much to her surprise. There's no neck blowing or kicking the back of her chair or tugging her hair. Mr. Brotch makes it through his lecture uninterrupted, the class is quiet for the most part, save for the hushed comments shared between Wally and Paul and the snickers that follow. Afterwards, she not only gets her worksheet done, but has time to read a few pages of her book before the bell sounds over the intercom, signaling the end of class, it's only then she hears from Butch as he catches her exiting the class room.

"So, uh, I'll see you in a bit, right?"

"Right. I just need to run to my quarters and take care of a few things."

"Yeah, okay. See you then." He says with a smile. She returns it with one of her own before making her way down the hall.

~*~

She feels nervous as she traverses down the hall, holding her stack of journals to her chest as she makes her way to the DeLoria residency. She's still waiting for the other shoe to drop, for this to all blow up in her face, to open the door to their apartment, to find Butch and his gang there to laugh at her for being so naive as if to actually believe Butch could be anything other than a bully. She makes it to the door without incident. There's no booby trap or Tunnel Snakes jumping out at her when the door slides open after she knocks. Just Butch, greeting her with a smile.

"Hey."

"Hey." She says, then hesitantly walks in.

Much like anything else related to Butch, she isn't really sure what she expected of his personal quarters. Maybe broken glass bottles and trash littered about, with blood splatters on the wall. Or maybe a mess on the floor, with food and forgotten homework assignments. Or maybe even Ellen DeLoria herself, passed out in a room somewhere. She finds it's actually the opposite of all that. The floor is clean, as are the counters and furniture. No mess or empty alcohol bottles or anything astray to be seen anywhere. In fact, the apartment looks barren almost, hardly lived in. It doesn't look much different then the empty quarters of the abandoned west wing, which no longer holds residents due to the Vault's slowly declining population. In fact the only thing that has any sense of personal belonging is the leather jacket hanging off the back of the chair, and Butch himself.

She places her stack of journals on the table, begins sifting through them.

"I've organized them in chronological order. The ones at the bottom are from the beginning of this semester, with the ones on top being more recent."

She grabs the first one, flips it open.

"These are the first notes since the last test. I wasn't sure how far back you wanted to go, thought I'd bring it all to be safe. Plus I wrote in the margins where you might need to reference the older notes for, like, formulas and stuff."

She sets the journal back down, then divides the stack out into groups.

"These are history, these are math, those science, and this one reading. I tend to jot a lot of things down, so I've highlighted everything you need to know, and you can ignore the rest."

Realizing she doesn't intend to stay, Butch asks where she's going.

"I need to help my Dad at the clinic."

"Can't he manage on his own?"

"Well, I'm helping him with paperwork and he's far too disorganized to do it on his own."

Butch glaces down at the color coded journals covered with her neat scrawl and highlighter.

"Ain't that what Jonas is for?"

"Jonas gets the evenings off to help his Grandma."

Butch bites down on his lip, looking very unsure of himself in a way she's never seen before. She offers words of encouragement.

"There's no need to be embarrassed or ashamed, Butch. Everyone needs help every now and then."

"Yeah. Right."

"For what it's worth, I think you're brave for doing this. Not everyone has the courage to seek the help they need."

He snorts, she doesn't get the irony, and he allows her on her way.

~*~

The future Lone Wanderer sighs as she puts the last of the files away. There's only twenty minutes left in the shift and she decides to wait for her father instead of heading home before him. Looking for something to do, she begins organizing the tongue depressors. She glances up when she hears someone come in, supposes she shouldn't be surprised to see Butch.

"Oh, hey." She greets.

He places her stack of journals on the counter and rests his elbow on them as he leans forward.

"Thought you were workin' on paperwork."

"I was. I just finished up actually, decided to wait for my dad so we can walk home together."

"He's around?" Butch asks, glancing about.

"He's in the back, taking inventory. Did you get all the work done?"

"Yeah."

"Did you find everything okay?"

"Yeah."

She nods, then drops her gaze to the depressor she twirls between her index and thumb fingers.

"You look tired." She observes, feeling herself blush and not understanding why she feels embarrassed for noticing.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She shrugs.

"That you worked hard, I guess."

Taking it as a compliment, he smirks.

"You know," she brings her gaze to his, " you're really full of surprises."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He straightens up, thumbs through the first few pages on the top journal.

"You know, I've been thinkin' 'bout that book you've been readin'. 'Bout the boy and the girl."

"What about them?"

"I wanted to ask what they're up to now."

"Oh, well, let's see. She finally got her book back, and has gotten to spend some time with the boy. She thinks... she thinks maybe she misjudged him, that maybe he's alright."

He bites down on his bottom lip, as if trying to bite back the smile that tugs on the corners of his lips despite his efforts. It makes him look boyish and she finds herself smiling with him.

James, who's finished up in the back, makes his way to the front of the clinic, sees the kids and quickly backtracks until he's just inside his office, out of sight from the pair but still within earshot.

His daughter reaches across the counter towards Butch, her touch a gentle caress as she follows just below the curve of the slightly bruised cut across his cheek.

"It's looking much better." She says, before pulling her hand back into her own personal space as she gathers up the rest of the tongue depressors and puts them away.

"I'm not surprised." He says, and his voice is warm, gentle even. She feels herself blushing, but she doesn't understand why. It's as if the warmth of his soft gaze has spread to her somehow, heating her from the inside out.

James returns to the back closet where they keep their supplies stocked, opens the door quietly and shuts it with more force than necessary.

"Honey?" He calls, before entering into the room.

"Oh, hello Butch."

"Hey, Doc." He greets, sounding far from amused. "Well, I should head back soon. Mom'll freak if she gets home from work and I ain't there."

He removes his arm from the journals, and taps the stack with his forefinger.

"Thanks again."

"It's no problem."

She watches him turn to leave.

"Good night Butch. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, you too."

James joins her behind the counter and marvels at his daughter's work.

"You did good with the files, dear."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Mm-hmm."

"You get all the inventory done to get new stock supplies approved by the Overseer?"

"For the most part, yes. I need to check up on a few odd and end things in the morning, then everything wil be squared away."

She nods, idly swipes her hand across the counter top.

"So... I've been seeing a lot of Butch lately," he starts, "he came in the other day asking for you, said something about notes?"

"Yeah, he needed help in Brotch's class." She explains, waving a journal.

"I see. Has he... been bothering you lately?"

"Yeah, I guess. But when isn't he?"

"Is he harassing you?"

"No, nothing like that. Just... annoying stuff. You know, typical Butch and his little gang stuff. Nothing too bad really."

"Oh? Like what?" He asks, leaning back as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Well, he likes to kick my chair a lot. He talks during class, sometimes he says stuff that makes me mad, but I think he does it on purpose."

"What makes you say that?"

"I think he does it to get a rise out of me. To be honest, I think his little gang gets tired of trying to out man each other or something, so they pick on everyone else every once in a while to change things up a bit."

She lets out a heavy sigh as she gathers her study materials into her arms and follows her father out the door as he locks up.

"But there's no telling with them, I suppose. Who knows why they do half of what they do; I just don't get boys."

James listens with an amused grin as they walk down the hall towards their apartment.

"No honey, I don't think you do. But it's for the best, probably."

She feels her father is getting at something, but she has no clue at what- does it really matter why Butch steals her pencils off her desk or says reading is for nerds?

~*~

The next day after class, Butch grabs a hold of her arm as she steps into the hall.

"What are you doing?"

"Where are you goin' in such a rush? You're always in a hurry."

"Butch, I need to go help my father at the clinic."

"Your father, the clinic, you're always workin'."

"That's what responsible members of the Vault do, Butch."

She doesn't mean it but it stings, yet he follows her when she starts walking anyways. She notices their proximity, their shoulders brush. She can smell his leather and pomade.

"But that's the thing, whaddya do in your spare time?"

"Spare time?"

"Yeah, you know, like hobbies 'n shit. Whaddya do?"

"I dunno. Read, mostly."

He rolls his eyes.

"Geez kid. Alright, what about movies?"

"Movies?"

"Ya, you know. Pre-war flicks. Godzilla and all that."

"I've seen one or two when I spend the night with Amata, but I don't really watch them on my own."

"Well I got this one you might like."

"I dunno Butch, I'm really busy."

"Right, well, we can always do somethin' else if you'd like."

She hesitates, hugs her journals closer to herself.

"I just... really don't have the time, between helping Dad and studying for tests."

"No, right, I get it. It's fine. Hey... I'll, uh, see ya around?" She nods, watching as he hastily disappears down the hall.

She frowns to herself before stepping into the clinic.

"What's wrong honey?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think we'll be seeing anymore of Butch."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"... I don't know."

~*~

The next day, she finds Paul is sitting behind her where Butch used to be. She frowns to herself but doesn't say a word as she takes her seat. At the front of the class Butch, where Paul used to be, is conversing with Wally in hushed tones, a sneer on his face. The two snicker.

"What's the point of a doc when we have Stimpacks?" Butch asks aloud to no one and everyone, as he leans back in his chair and places his boots on his desk. He's leaned back well into Wally's personal space, who doesn't seem to mind, and is glaring right at her from across the room.

"You know what's dumber? Nurses."

She feels her face get hot and she opens her book, tears her gaze from him and stares at the pages as her anger blurs the inked words into unreadable blobs.

"It wasn't a Stimpack that reset the nose you broke." She counters, her anger getting the best of her. A few of the kids chuckle.

His chair falls back on all fours with a hard clang.

"What did you say?" He grounds out between clenched teeth, his hands balled tight into fists.

She stays composed, keeps her eyes trained on the pages she's pretending to read.

Before a fight can break out, Mr. Brotch enters the room.

"Sorry I'm late, slept through my alarm. Everybody turn to page one thirty-eight." He says, getting right to the point and seemingly unaware of the tension in the room.

She sighs, is thankful for the momentary disruption, but worries about what she'll do after class. Or this evening, or tomorrow...

She knows there's no point in worrying about it, she'll find out soon enough. She pulls out her journal, goes fishing for a pen, and as Mr. Brotch begins his lecture, she begins to flip through her notebook for the next available page and as she's thumbing through it, something catches her eye. She goes back a few pages, and bites down on her lip hard at the inked doodle of a snake coiled up in the margin of her notes, not unlike the snake on the back of the leather jackets worn by Butch and his gang.

It's too much for her. Her journal trembles in her hands and her face grows hot as her vision blurs. She holds her breath, but it's too late, the first tear falls. She stuffs everything back, gathers it into her arms and hastily exists the class room before the first sob can escape her lips. She finds it difficult to breathe, each breath is a sharp gasp that enunciates the pain in her chest. She's all but running down the hall, can't see through the stream of tears. She trips and falls, her stuff scatters everywhere, and she finally allows herself to succumb to what she's feeling.

Confused. She's feeling so confused. She hasn't even wrapped her mind around what's happened the last few days, and suddenly things are back to how they were before, except it feels wrong somehow and Butch is being meaner.

What the hell happened?

Why? Why had Butch suddenly started being nice to her all of a sudden? Only to turn around and be mean again? Why not just stay mean? Why is this shaking her up so badly?

She pulls herself up, begins to clean all her things up between wiping her nose and her tears.

Is it because she saw Butch was human after all? That he could be nice? That he could be gentle? Which makes his bullying hard to accept, because it means he's doing it on purpose? She has to admit, it was easier to put up with him when she'd rationalize with herself that he's just a cruel human being who isn't capable of anything except for hurting people. It was like he couldn't help himself, or so she thought, that all he knew was hate, so all he could give was hate. Of course when they were younger, she'd try to show him kindness, but that always seemed to make him angrier, made him hate her more. So she figured he's just a hateful person and that's when she learned to keep quiet when he'd call her names or taunt her, to not fight back when he'd trip her in the halls or push her.

She sits on the ground, stares at the blood beading along the tiny cuts of her scraped knee.

_'It looks much better.'_

_'I'm not surprised.'_

His voice had been so gentle, so warm. Tears sting her eyes again and she stands up, walks much slower this time.

The first day he'd changed seats with Paul and tugged on her hair all throughout the lecture, she thought it was a new way to annoy her. Like maybe after the past few years he'd grown tired of her not talking or pushing back. Why the notes, then? Why ask her about her book?

Her gaze falls to the book. Maybe she should tell him it's actually a fantasy novel, involving mythology creatures and magic. The protagonist is a male, and there is no girl, save for the evil witch and the girl he's trying to save- the king's daughter. But he doesn't know the girl and his only traveling companion is his horse. The book is about his quest to save the princess, and his journey to find himself, and what happened to his parents. Now she'll never know, cause she can't look at the damned thing without thinking of him, of their fingers brushing when he gave it back to her.

"Honey? What are you doing here? You should be at school!" James says as she enters the clinic.

"I'm not feeling well." She says and her voice sounds shaky and nasally.

"What's wrong?" He asks, coming over to her immediately. "What happened to your knee?"

"N-Nothing, it's nothing."

"Honey this isn't nothing. What's going on?" He asks sternly.

She shrugs.

"I tripped and fell in the hall. I left class because I'm not feeling good. I-", she takes a deep breath, "I think it's just stress about the G.O.A.T. test coming up. I've been studying a lot and I think I'm more worried about it then I realized."

"Oh sweetie," James says, pulling her into a hug, "there's no need to worry yourself sick. It's just a silly little test."

Upon hearing the fuss, Jonas enters to see what's going on.

"You have been studying a lot lately. I think you should just rest for a bit, okay? Take the day off. I'll tell Mr. Brotch you weren't feeling well, okay?"

She nods and sniffs.

"Okay. Let's get your knee patched up then you can lay down."

James puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her along. As they pass, Jonas mouths the words 'is she okay' and James gives a reassuring nod.

She sits on the table, staring at the ointment on her scrape, listening as James explain to Jonas what's going on while he looks for a bandage.

She lied. And she feels bad, but there's just no way she can tell him the truth, not when she's exactly sure what the truth is. Her mind still spinning, she closes her eyes and decides a day of rest does sound good.

-//-

Butch watches as she storms out the classroom. His hand nervously fidgets with a zipper as he debates going after her. Seeing the look on his face, Wally rolls his eyes.

"Don't bother man," he whispers, punching Butch in the arm, "you've wasted enough time on her. 'Sides, she's too square for you anyways."

"Don't fuckin' touch me." Butch hisses, then turns back around to stare at the board. Wally's right, he's tried already, but he didn't mean to make her cry. He's done enough, he just needs to let her be. Eveything will snap back into place eventually.

Except he can't help feeling he's just screwed up the only good thing in this god forsaken hell-hole. But good things don't happen to him. He's learned from a young age he has to look out for himself, because no one else will, and the only people who offer favors are those who want something in return.

Except her.

She's always so damn _nice_. And it confuses him. No matter what he throws her way, she's still nice. Life has torn him down, and he built himself up to be cold and unflinching. But now he's sitting here, wondering if he should go after her, because he's worried she's hurt, because he _cares_. Somewhere along the way she became a vulnerability to him. Maybe it's because out of everyone in the Vault, she's the only one who doesn't treat him like shit. The adults who don't think he's scum because he's Ellen DeLoria's son baby him, like he's some fragile thing that needs to be fixed. The others, including some of the other kids, think he's someone who needs to be broken. The rest of the kids fear him. And then there's her. Who treats him the way she treats everyone else. With patience. With diligence. With care. Not the handle-with-caution type care, either. The kind of care that comes from love.

He folds his arms on his desk and lays his head down.

What did he do to repay her for all that? He broke her. The voices of his mother, of The Overseer, of Mr. Brotch and the others echo through his head, telling him what a piece of shit he is, how he's nothing and that's all he'll ever be, how all he does is fuck everything up.

No. She'll bounce back from this, like she always does. And he can too. He'll internalize it, like everything else. Consume it and use it as fuel for the fire of hate and anger that burns within him. He just needs to go back to avoiding her, and pretend the past few weeks have never happened.

Everything will eventually snap back into place.

~*~

She sits in the cafeteria with Amata. She'd rather spend the evening coped up in her room nose deep in a book but her friend wanted to study for the upcoming G.O.A.T. test, and she figured she should humor her friend. It's not as if she could spend too much time studying.

She just wished Amata chose a more secluded place to do it.

"Did you like, do something to piss Butch or something?"

"What? No. Why?"

"He won't stop staring at you. Creep."

She can't deny that she hasn't felt the slight itch crawling up and down her spine. She assumed it was the urge to be anywhere else but here.

"Don't worry," Amata reassures, "there's no telling why he's upset. I'm sure he'll have forgotten all about it by tonight."

"I think I'm going to get some Fancy Lads."

"Okay. I'm going to get started on my math."

She fishes in her pocket for change as she makes her way to the Eat'o'tronic 3000. As she walks around tables and avoids clustered groups of people, she can feel his gaze on her. She takes her time putting her money in and retrieving her snack. She holds her breath, feels her teeth biting uncertainly into her bottom lip. Their eyes meet instantly. He doesn't look away. She continues to hold his gaze as she makes her way back. About halfway back to the table, his expression changes to something... soft, almost. It makes her heart flutter strangely in her chest. Right before she reaches her table, he drops his gaze and returns his attention to his friends.

"What was all that about?"

"I don't... really know." She admits.

Amata snorts as she smirks, then returns to the complex series of math problems written out before her.

"It's for the best, probably."

"Yeah, maybe." She finds herself agreeing, though she has no idea what Amata could possibly mean.


End file.
